Page 92 of Best Kept Secrets

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “How could you sleep through it?”

She stared at him, aghast. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with it?”

Reede turned his attention back to the road. His face was taut and rigid in the greenish light emanating from the dashboard. The police radio discharged its scratchy static. The transmissions were loud and intrusive. There was no other traffic on the highway, so the siren

wasn’t necessary, but the lights overhead continued to whirl and flash, making Alex feel like she was caught in a weird kaleidoscope.

“I think you had a lot to do with it, you and your close friend and associate.” Her bewilderment only seemed to infuriate him more. “Reverend Fergus Plummet,” he shouted. “The preacher’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“Plummet?”

“ ‘Plummet?’ ” he mimicked nastily. “When did the two of you cook up this idea, the evening he paid a visit to your motel room, or the other day, on the sidewalk in front of the B & B Café?”

She took a series of quick, shallow breaths. “How’d you know?”

“I know, okay? Who called who first?”

“He and his wife showed up at my room. I’d never heard of him before that. The man’s a maniac.”

“That didn’t stop you from enlisting him to your cause.”

“I did no such thing.”

Swearing beneath his breath, he pulled the transmitter of his radio toward his mouth and notified one of his deputies at the scene that he was only minutes away.

“Ten-four, Reede. When you get here, go to barn number two.”

“How come?”

“Don’t know. Somebody said to tell you that.”

“Ten-four. I’m at the gate now.”

They turned off the highway and took the private road. Alex’s stomach turned over when she saw a column of smoke rising from one of the horse barns. Flames were no longer visible, but the roof and those of the adjacent buildings were still being doused with fire hoses. Firemen, wearing slickers and rubber boots, were frantically trying to contain the fire.

“They got to it before it did too much damage,” Reede informed her harshly.

Emergency vehicles were parked near the smoking stable and in front of the house. Nearly every downstairs window had been broken out. All exterior walls had dire warnings of Armageddon spray-painted on them.

“There were three carloads of them. Apparently they circled the premises several times, throwing rocks through the windows, but only after they’d done their real dirty work. You can see how well K-Mart did tonight in the spray-paint department.” His lip curled snidely. “They dumped shit into the drinking troughs. Fine class of friends you’ve got there, Counselor.”

“Was anybody hurt?” It was a horrendous scene. She was unable to draw sufficient air into her lungs.

“One of the gallop boys.” Alex turned toward him for elaboration. “He heard the racket, rushed outside the bunkhouse, stumbled, fell and broke his arm.”

Barn number two was the one with the smoldering roof. Reede braked the Blazer in front and left her sitting in the truck when he went inside. Alex, feeling like each limb weighed a thousand pounds, shoved open the door and followed him through the wide doors, shouldering her way through the scurrying firemen.

“What’s the matter?” she heard Reede demand as he jogged down the center aisle of the stable.

A horse was screaming, obviously in pain. It was the most hideous sound Alex had ever heard. Reede picked up speed.

The Mintons were gathered in a somber, pajama-clad huddle outside one of the stalls. Sarah Jo was weeping copiously. Angus was fervently, but ineffectually, patting her back. Junior was holding her hand and using his other to cover a yawn. Reede pushed them aside, but drew up short at the entrance to the stall.

“Jesus Christ.” He cursed a stream of blue words, then let out a tortured roar that caused Alex to shrink back into the shadows.

A pot-bellied, bespectacled man stepped into Alex’s line of vision. By all appearances, he’d come straight from his bed. His corduroy jacket had been pulled on over a pair of pajamas. Laying a hand on Reede’s arm, he shook his balding head gravely. “There’s nothing I can do for him, Reede. We’ll have to put him down.”